CHAPTER XXIII

OnoneofCissy’swakefulnights,shetoldValancyherpoorlittlestory.Theyweresittingbytheopenwindow.Cissycouldnotgetherbreathlyingdownthatnight.AningloriousgibbousmoonwashangingoverthewoodedhillsandinitsspectrallightCissylookedfrailandlovelyandincrediblyyoung.Achild.Itdidnotseempossiblethatshecouldhavelivedthroughallthepassionandpainandshameofherstory. “Hewasstoppingatthehotelacrossthelake.Heusedtocomeoverinhiscanoeatnight—wemetinthepinesdowntheshore.Hewasayoungcollegestudent—hisfatherwasarichmaninToronto.Oh,Valancy,Ididn’tmeantobebad—Ididn’t,indeed.ButIlovedhimso—Ilovehimyet—I’llalwayslovehim.AndI—didn’tknow—somethings.Ididn’t—understand.Thenhisfathercameandtookhimaway.And—afteralittle—Ifoundout—oh,Valancy,—Iwassofrightened.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Iwrotehim—andhecame.He—hesaidhewouldmarryme,Valancy.” “Andwhy—andwhy?——” “Oh,Valancy,hedidn’tlovemeanymore.Isawthatataglance.He—hewasjustofferingtomarrymebecauseheth